


What We've Built and What We've Destroyed

by Squidhead



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, M/M, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15461805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squidhead/pseuds/Squidhead
Summary: He ran a hand through his grease filled hair and leaned back. Strike Commander Morrison. God, if anyone saw him passed out on his desk and drooling through the UN’s peace negotiations, they would laugh him out of his position. He was a goddamn mess. And that wasn’t even counting the pining.A collection of Reaper76 drabbles.





	1. The Matter on the Table

The excuse Jack Morrison had given Ana when probed about the bags under his eyes was that he was an insomniac workaholic. What he failed to mention, however, was that he had gotten used to a lulling breathing pattern directly behind him at night. That, and being spoiled via the form of muscular arms wrapped around his middle. Both of them knew that he wasn’t admitting to anything any time soon, even with Ana’s pursed lips and furrowed brows, so she gave him a small admonishment and left it at that. She moved to buttering her roll in pointed silence. He moved to internally careening over his self confession.

He was only slightly in denial; Jack knew she was right to admonish him. Despite his internal willing, burying himself in papers and running himself ragged did nothing to bring Gabe back quicker. It did leave him with a tingling headache and a further caffeine addiction. Still, he couldn’t help but fuss. He still was internally reeling over Jesse, a kid for chrissakes, coming back with one less arm. Burying himself in busywork kept him from hijacking the nearest helicopter and flying right to Gabe’s side. He ran a hand through his grease filled hair and leaned back. Strike Commander Morrison. God, if anyone saw him passed out on his desk and drooling through the UN’s peace negotiations, they would laugh him out of his position. He was a goddamn mess. And that wasn’t even counting the pining. What started as stress relief progressed into kisses hidden in alcoves and late nights spent taking about hopes and fears. It made him, a six foot two marine, giddy like a teenager. He wasn’t in any sort of rush to fix it, but goddamn was he getting needy. 

His headset chirped through his internal soliloquy and he groaned. If he had to deal with another prime minister this week, he was going to take a personal visit to their headquarters to tell them to shove their complaints up their ass. Not really, he internally corrected. That would complicate the state of Overwatch, and he had lectured Gabe enough about pretty red tape to blow it on something as insignificant as a phone call. The idea palliated him, though. He put on a fake demeanor of heroic bravado (which Gabe had lovingly nicknamed “Captain America face”) and answered the call. 

“This is Commander Morrison.”

“Jack, I need you in the med bay now.” His heart skipped a beat with the emphasis of every syllable. Angela’s voice was calm and precise, like every time she was managing a crisis.   
Jack sprinted out the room, launching mission reports across the floor of his office. He bolted through impersonal hallways, narrowly dodging agents left and right. All pretenses of niceties were gone as he moved with reckless abandon. The last time the bile had risen in his throat like this was during the Omnic War, when he lost sight of Gabriel in the carnage and the screams. 

The door to the med-bay slid open with a hollow mechanical sound, and he stood in the desolation of the room. 

The first thing he noted was the color red. A thin coating of it, like someone had grabbed a second bottle of wine and was too inebriated to hold it, was plastered in a dripping careening trail on the gray tile. Nurses swarmed around the room, grabbing and darting and shouting in medic speak he was never privy to. All of them lead to the outline of an angel of death, all too familiar, and she moved over a set of boots on a soaked gurney, also all too familiar. Angela was in the throes of the battle, hovering around Reyes and pulling bullets and shrapnel and oh god that is a lot of blood. The resounding squelch hit him right in the stomach, bringing ripples of nausea to the forefront of his mind. 

“The anesthesia hasn’t set in yet and he’s hysterical. I need you to calm him down.” Mercy spoke in sharp commanding clicks over groans of pain. Jack swallowed down the urge to puke and forced himself through the line of people to get close to Gabe’s face. The collective clinks of metal in Mercy’s pan, previously in Gabriel’s body, were far more audible to him from this angle. Every pang resounded deep in his chest. He felt lightheaded. 

Gabriel thrashed against the people holding him to the base of the gurney. He let out a cry of anguish, his eyes further away than Jack had ever known. Two nurses were thrown to the ground, knocking over equipment with them. 

“Gabriel.” He forced his not to remain tentative. It was authoritative, built of a well worn visage, covering the panic in his eyes in a single stroke. Every bone in each of their bodies had been broken in, designed, with a single purpose: to obey. Playing the commander, he knew, was the only thing that would cut through the hysteria, the half-sentient mind of a grizzled soldier. Jack calculated, watching Gabe’s face for any sign of emotion. 

Eyes closed, clenched along with every coiled muscle in his body, Gabriel stopped at the sound of Jack’s voice. He opened his eyes slowly, still ham-fisted along with grinding teeth to boot. Jack was accustomed to every cycle of emotion Gabriel Reyes had, and yet this still broke him. 

“Jack?” He slurred, while three more bullets were plucked out. Trying to double over at the expense of the nurses, Gabriel screamed in pain. Jack immediately put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder, the one part of his body left unscathed. His other hand found itself sneaking between the tines of a curled fist. 

“It’s me, Gabe. The medicine hasn’t kicked in, but it’s getting there. Can you hold on?”

“Jack, I can’t do it.” His voice was hoarse and strained and Jack would have given anything to fix him. He wished he be was filled with holes instead of Gabriel, if only to reverse the sands of time and take his place. Gabe’s brown eyes were full blown with panic, aimed straight for him like a doe in headlights. Mercy cleared her throat and nodded to the monitor, her lips in a straight line of determination. The medicine was slowing him down, but there was still an undercurrent of panic and far too much time until potency. Jack slowly, gently, brought his other hand down to cup Gabriel’s. Their blood soaked fingers intertwined subconsciously against the metal border of the gurney. 

“Do it for me.” His voice let out a sliver of emotion against his will, enough to lull Gabriel into complacency. Jack watched Gabriel’s wide chest slow to a crawl, the only movement of his body. Those drugged eyes held his gaze the entire time, through every whispered phrase of encouragement. Hell, he didn’t know what he was saying, and he doubted it was anything comprehendible. All he knew was that it was working. So he kept whispering until Gabe’s eyes closed shut. 

Angela’s soft voice startled him. She ordered nurses away to fetch supplies, but Jack remained. He ran his fingers over each of Gabe’s scarred knuckles, his brow still creased in worry. 

“You better live.” He muttered, standing alone with Angela in the deserted med-bay. Minutes crept into hours and Jack stood still, refusing to leave him.   
Soon after, he watched her seam the last pieces of flesh together and she breathed a sigh of relief. All of the adrenaline of the past encounter had drained out of him. The worry was still there, true, but it was an undertow to the muted exhaustion of the room. After they settled Gabriel into the proper room, awaiting his return to lucidity, Jack sunk into the plastic seat next to his sleeping form. 

He hated everything about hospitals. From all the comprehensive minutes Gabe and the rest of the team had given him to ruminate at their carbon-copy bedsides, he had boiled it down to one overarching theme. As much as he was immensely grateful to Angela and the medical staff, every single hospital he had been in was pallid and impersonal. Misery was the same internationally, and all the buildings were some variation of harsh lit death with a side of faint ammonia wafting in the background. Plus, it brought back myriads of memories from the SEP. He preferred it to dealing with people dying out in the middle of the field, that was for sure, but it never reassured him.   
Although he logically knew Gabe was safe, and he logically knew he hired Angela because she was the best doctor in the world, the unease of the situation kept him on edge. He personally saw the last bullet pulled out, but his mind harkened back to situations that didn’t fare so well. All the thinking tied him up into knots, and he fought the sleep pulling at the corners of his eyes. At last, the exhaustion pulled him under. 

He woke to a musty taste in his mouth and the same steady heartbeat monitor he had fallen asleep to. The difference, however, was the pitch darkness of the room. How long had he been out? Eyes still adjusting, he frantically scanned the room for Gabriel. He found Gabe’s shape, which sharpened to the curve of his aquiline nose and soft lips. He grunted, momentarily satisfied. Back ached, but damn was the wave of relief at seeing Gabe’s face again worth it. It quickly turned to melancholy when he observed the limp way the IV hung and the bandages and surgical tape around his middle. Despite the rapid healing time from the SEP mutations, Jack knew that these wounds would take months to heal. Hell, any normal person would have died hours ago.

“Long time no see, guapo.” Saturated with sleep, Gabe’s voice barely called out over the sounds of the machines. 

“I wanted you to come home soon, but Jesus, I didn’t mean like this. “ He said softly, padding over to him and gingerly resting on the side of the bed. 

“I didn’t see him coming. “ Gabe’s face instantly darkened. He looked tired; his skin took on a grey undertone and the bags under his eyes stood out against the lack of color. He watched Gabe grope for his beanie in frustration, but his hat was nowhere to be found so he set his hand back onto the bed. It immediately curled into a fist. “The bastard got away too. I failed the team and got my ass handed to me on a plate.” Jack instinctively reached for his hand and was met with no resistance.

“Take a deep breath.” He soothed, taking both hands and gently cradling his face. Gabe let out a huff in frustration and then a few wet coughs. He closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, bringing both hands up shakily to rest on the outside of Jack’s hands. 

“You did what you could. We’ll run through briefings later, but right now you need to rest.”

“You expect me to just let that go? After everyone was counting on me?” His grip was tight and his voice was loud, echoing on the walls of the room. This of course brought on another round of coughs and he sunk back down into a glowering pitiful state. 

“Everyone’s just happy you’re alive.” Jack said. He peeled one of Gabe’s hands away and rested it on his chest in a slow even motion. His cerulean eyes met Gabe’s sullen brown ones. Defeated and out of energy to debate, Gabe scooted over on the hospital bed as best he could and patted beside him. Jack gently, loosely, embraced him. He avoided the mess of his torso and arranged his arm over the expanse of Gabe’s collarbone. 

“God, I missed you.” Gabriel whispered, resting his hand over Jacks. They clung to each other, desperate for contact after so much time. 

“I missed you too.” Jack said. He leaned over to peck Gabe’s cheek and was met with Gabe’s soft bottom lip instead. They sat in the dark silence of the med bay until they both fell asleep to the sound of the other’s breathing.


	2. Together

A week later than Gabriel had wanted and a week sooner than Angela had wanted, Jack escorted Gabriel through the hallways in a beaten up wheelchair. Truth be told, he had agreed with Angela but he was so damn tired of listening to Gabriel moan about being bored that he caved in. That man would be the death of him one day.

He figured Reyes was healing just fine, seeing as he could still muster up the energy to protest the help like a crotchety old man. Still, the added bulk of the bandages maneuvered carefully under his cotton shirt did nothing to quell the wrinkles of concern on his forehead. At least his presence had added a small comfort, soothing nerves he didn’t know he had.

As soon as the door closed, Reyes shot up faster than he was supposed to and pulled Jack’s hips toward him. He leaned in for a kiss. Jack stood up to his full height and tilted his head back, barely grazing Gabriel’s lips. He was softer and gentler than he knew either of them wanted, but he wanted to lean on the side of caution. They would never hear the end of it if he ripped open brand new stitches and had to come right back to the med bay. He was hesitant to snake his arms over Gabe’s shoulders, worried he would break under his touch.

“I’m not an expensive vase, Jack, you can touch me.” Gabe murmured between kisses. Reverently running a hand over his collar bone, Jack let out a small chuckle.

“No, but you’re a whole hell of a lot more fragile than you seem to think.” He said, eying the plentitude of scars littering his skin. He knew the story behind every single one, was there for the majority of them. Both of them were a tapestry of history and violence that was fraying at the edges. Relishing the feeling of Gabriel’s skin, Jack dusted kisses over his neck and jaw. Both of them felt their breath hitch in their throats. Gabe let out a breathless laugh and angled his neck up for easier access. All this seems to do is make him raw and vulnerable; ironic considering Gabe is the one with skin barely held together.

Jack had built an armada around a perfect alter ego, their fearless leader. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember the last time he had been himself. His persona was never lost, never afraid, and most definitely not staring at the ceiling worrying about when Reyes was going to get home.  He had to develop it, seeing as millions were counting on him. When Gabriel came home, however, all of that was blown to bits. Gabriel saw through every twitch of muscle and filtered line. Despite his best efforts, Gabe fell through his armor and saw his complete and utter self. And not only did he like was he saw, he _craved_ it.

Jack trembled, legs shaking at the sudden feeling that every piece of him was scrubbed raw and laid out bare. He had never felt this feeling before and it frightened him. He loved it. Jack leaned towards Gabriel, taking his bottom lip between both of his. Soft kisses left them hungering for each other and they careened into each other, biting and moaning and feeling. He clung to Reyes before he heard a soft hiss of pain from his partner.

“You alright?” he asked, immediately backing away and inspecting his torso.

“I’m fine.” He nodded and moved back to kiss him, still cringing. Jack gently stopped him.

“No you’re not, I know that face. Let’s get to bed, fine china.”


	3. SEP

The first day of first grade, Jack woke up with his limbs heavy and an ache running up his back. It was too hot, it was too cold, and the only thing he could think through the foggy haze of morning was that he couldn’t miss the bus. Dutifully, he drug himself to the breakfast table where his blue porcelain plate, part of the set Memaw brought them for Christmas, was piled high with eggs straight from the chicken. Even that wasn’t enough to cheer him up. He could barely even muster the energy to slide the fork up to his mouth. He shivered. Flinging the kitschy cloth over her shoulder, his mom swooped in to feel his forehead. 

In that moment, Jack made a decision. He could remember his best friend’s toy dump truck and the smell of dirt. He was not going to miss school. He set his jaw and waved his mom off, all the while sweating through his pajama shirt. 

He had barely made it out the door before he face planted into the concrete. School supplies fell all over the sidewalk as his mom came running. He was scooped up into her arms, but he could still see the grassy path to school over her shoulder. Diagnosis: hydrogen peroxide on the knees and bed confinement until the fever subsided. Cornstalks outside his window waved in the breeze and pulled him to sleep.

This, he thought, was just like that morning; that was, barring the fact that there was no mom to pick him up. 

Sitting on the dark while watching the rungs of a creaky bunk bed instead of the fields wasn’t the way he wanted to go. He thought when he signed up for the military his greatest chance of death would be at the end of an ominic barrel. Nevertheless, guys were dropping like flies since the last injection. They were down to fifty two out of a hundred. 

He writhed under the sheet, fighting another wave of solid misery. Grinding his teeth barely kept the grunts of pain in. He curled into a ball on the edge of the bed. 

Somehow in the dark room he managed to accidentally lock eyes with Reyes. Normally so intense, they were glazed over like a cow’s. Understandably, he wasn’t doing too hot either. He was stripped down to the standard issue boxers and was ontop of the scratchy polyester. Jack could see the sweat dripping off him from across the room. Reyes, their unfazeable, reckless ringleader, was eerily still. Jack bit his lip so hard it drew blood.

“Gabe?” he whispered, before wincing at how loud it sounded in the room. 

Gabe’s head jerked hapazardly towards Jack, as if out of a trance. He glared at the area around him. It was close to being threatening until his face contorted into pain.

Right there, Jack made another choice. Shaking with exertion, he hauled his body over to the bunk. Just the strip of ten feet was enough to make him collapse into the bottom bunk. 

“Morrison, what the fuck are you doing?” he hissed, voice strained and hot in Jack’s ears. The bed was almost too small for one person, let alone a six foot tall giant. Two super soldiers in one bed was like being crammed in a FedEx box. Their chests were glued together and Jack felt like the heat and sweat swallowing him alive. That, and he could feel Gabriel’s erratic heartbeat next to his. 

“You looked dead.”

“You’ll be dead if you don’t get out of my bed.” He attempted to jab his finger into Morrison’s chest, but instead weakly brushed him before letting his limp arm fall. 

Any retort Jack could’ve came up with died on his lips with the stab of pain in his side. Jack could feel his face twist up in agony. A gasp escaped. Then a horrid moan followed. Gabriel’s gruff face melted to concern. He gripped Jack’s shoulders feverently. 

“Shit. Jack, please don’t-“ His lips were parted in the shape of an ‘o’ and his eyebrows were knit together. 

Jack clutched him with a whimper. Gabe relinquished any hard love and yanked him to his chest. They rode out the spasms and the burning and the nauseating pain blinding his vision.

When he came to, Gabe was wiping his plastered hair up and out of his face. Still too out of it to care that he was in his arms, he panted into the crook of his neck. After that, it was Gabe’s hands soothing down his back and over his shoulders. 

They undulated, trading waves of pain in the stuffy room. When Gabriel would wince, Jack would intertwine their arms and legs. When he would seize, Gabe murmured and the vibrations would calm him down. What grounded him the most was the set of hands gripping his waist, squeezing at just the right intervals. They stayed like that through the night, twisting and turning together in the dark. At least this round, he mused, he had someone with him. 

—————

He woke up to the cocoon of Gabriel’s arms around him. He didn’t know when they had fallen asleep the night before, but the feeling of breathing beind him told him they’d made it through. Sweet relief flooded his mind, and he fell back into Gabe’s arms. The aches seemed to have lessened as well, and he could breathe easy again.

The light feeling was disturbed by a fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had that really happened or was it some sort of fever dream, somehow carrying on to the present? He brushed Gabe’s arm. Suspicions confirmed- it was real. His face blushed with the dawning realization that Reyes had spooned him all night. 

Heading the telltale creak of the medical staff in the hall, Jack weaved out from under his arms and tiptoed back to his own bunk. As soon as he pulled the blanket over him, the door slid open with the gurneys in tow.

He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep while some of the worse off were lifted, his heart beating fast in his chest. He couldn’t shake the warm feeling left in the wake of the fever. 

The door closed and he looked for Reyes’s face again. His hair was disheveled, but he remained intact and almost serene. Jack watched as his eyes open again, just to be sure, and he looked away before Reyes could catch him staring.


End file.
